Father Figure
by The Full Neko Alchemist
Summary: Leehalt felt uncomfortable being a father figure. Malik wanted his approval, his love. He wanted someone to congratulate him on a job well done. That was a family matter. He didn’t do mushy lovey claptrap. [Leehalt and Malik. Oneshot]


**Disclaimer**: Wild Arms 3 and all related characters are not mine.

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**Father Figure**

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In the years that followed the Yggdrasil explosion, Malik went everywhere with Leehalt, almost as if he were the man's shadow. Leehalt was easily stirred, and Malik enjoyed teasing those who'd give him a reaction. Leehalt knew a great deal of things, and they crossed words over various scientific theories. In the morning they worked, and Malik would sit with his feet upon the desk. That got a reaction. And then in the afternoon he pushed further, for Leehalt was easy to manipulate. Not mind games, never mind games – Leehalt was too good for that. He might mention Werner Maxwell, as anger-stirring as he was: a man so able to wriggle under Leehalt's skin as to give a reason it was sallow. Malik would be ready for these discussions, and Leehalt would chide him and insult him until he backed down, which never worked thanks to a word the two knew well: Ekatrina.

As soon as he said that, Leehalt would abandon what he was supposed to discuss, and the arguments would continue for two hours or so until one "apologised" to the other, and it was always Malik. His mind was the more unfocused. He bounded off to his lab to experiment on unicellular and cell-cluster organisms, fungi and protests, and prokaryotes and all of those wonderful things. And when Leehalt followed him to discuss work, he said simply, "I'm bored."

"Bored?" Leehalt said.

"Yup. I've done Monday's work. Tuesday's too." He flicked through the notepad and, despairingly, threw it on the desk. "I need something to do."

"Then why not go to the lake?"

"I did, but Melody caught me. I don't think she'd appreciate it a second time. Though Mama always said I was quite a handsome fellow."

"And what did she see?"

By now they were both aware the conversation had started again, because Leehalt had balled his fists protectively, and Malik was prodding his fingers and thinking on how much to reveal.

"Just a little too much," he said vaguely. "I forget how cold the lake can be, at times."

Later, Leehalt said, "I saw you. You know when Melody screamed and threw your cloak at you? Well, I was behind her, and I was quite amazed you made it out alive." He chuckled briefly. "But, Malik, you don't see. You never do. It is not the done thing to go walking around… like that."

It was strange to say, no doubt: but Leehalt found such innocence in a grown man off-putting.

And, funnily, he didn't think the same about Ekatrina, with whom he'd hoped to do such things. And Malik knew that. He knew how to subtly bring it in: how to hammer it through: how to say it in such a charming way that Leehalt would play his game: how to play the child. But he knew Leehalt would forgive him. It was true, such an issue didn't make one who mentioned it the best of friends, but Malik liked to know someone by seeing how far they could be pushed.

It was natural. Leehalt had been talking him out of it for weeks now, but he never paid attention. With Leehalt lecturing him again, he turned his attention to the ceiling and then to the door that led to his special room.

And he didn't understand why his actions unsettled others.

"Did you ever know your father?" said Leehalt one day.

"Yup."

"Same response as ever. Let me put it to you again: who was he? What was, is, his name?"

Malik's eyes returned to Leehalt.

"I don't see why you need to know," he said. "I know nothing of your family."

"They are inconsequential. And non-existent. I prefer my own company."

"I bet you've never encountered someone like me before."

"So, who is he?"

"Who's who?"

"Your father."

"He's a father."

"He's what?"

"My father. The opposite of Mama. I would have thought that was obvious."

"Now you're being silly."

"I'm not. And if I am, you change the subject as quickly as your temper."

"Then we are two of a kind."

Malik could only shrug.

He had been fortunate to see many places in his life, but none of them compared to Mama; Humphrey's Peak, Boot Hill, Ballack Rise – grand and inspiring, but all came second. In Little Twister, everything came only if one was lucky. Mama had worked at Westwood Station, which lay nearby. He'd been fascinated by the trains: how they operated, how much fuel had to burn, how such feats of engineering could travel over thirty miles per hour. But that wasn't his favourite place. In Lunatic Garden, everything was pretty. Towering walls, white marble floors, blue crystals and sealed doors; it seemed to Malik's childish mind that they shared an affinity.

Leehalt frowned at his daydreaming.

"Work, Malik," he said. "There's lots of it, and I want it done. You said you did Monday and Tuesday. Do you know what day it is?"

"Three days till Melody's birthday."

"Yes and no. It's Friday, Malik. Where's your report?"

The work was piled on the desk in the next room. Malik was used to leaving the desk as a tip, but neatly lining everything up on the shelves. It was how he worked and there had been no reason to complain before. Except when he couldn't find something. But it would turn up eventually. He knew where everything was, even when it wasn't in the place he thought it'd be. And once his work was complete, he'd show Mama around Lunatic Garden and it's outdoor balcony. There the air was thin, and the power of the Guardian allowed rare plants to grow. So when he took her there she would be amazed and understand his other life's work. He wanted to show her the beauty left on Filgaia.

Leehalt, though, couldn't understand. But he wanted him to. His father had worked away from home for as long as he could remember, so much so that he couldn't remember his face. Not that he wanted to. He walked to the desk and suddenly flattened the photograph watching him. He'd always been envious of his father. He'd been able to get close to Mama in a way that he never can. He'd wanted Mama to himself, so when Father stayed away to work it was fine.

But it was confusing. He hated Father's memory, but he'd been kind in supporting the two of them, himself and Mama, making sure they had enough to eat. He'd even brought him his first textbook and paid for the odd lesson. Which Father did he like the most? The one who supported him, or the one who took Mama away?

And then came Leehalt.

He never wanted to take Mama away.

"It's here somewhere," Malik said. He waved his arm at the desk and smiled. "But it may take a while."

The lie was something Leehalt found unwelcome. Malik had been unfocused as of late. Panicked, dangerous. Leehalt was used to matching wits with a child who never quit, not a man wrapped up in an illusion of devotion. Such things were dangerous. He missed Ekatrina. He wanted her back; to love her, care for her, see out their lives together; but not once had he tried to bring her back. It was something one didn't do. But Malik seemed to lack the morals that Werner argued made them human. Leehalt looked at Malik and saw a lost childish figure quite unlike the Malik he knew.

He pushed Malik aside and began sifting through the piles of notes. He'd known Malik wanted his approval. He'd held out promises of such in order to get Malik to work to the best of his ability. But he felt uncomfortable being a father figure. Malik wanted his approval, his love. He wanted someone to congratulate him on a job well done. That was a family matter. He didn't do mushy lovey claptrap.

But Malik made it so hard. He was not without compassion, but too much of it made Malik soft and him uncomfortable. He never had been a warm, emotive person. Perhaps once, but Werner had shown him such things were better to be without.

He got no further, because Malik suddenly ran into the side room, and came back out with a bundle of notes so thick that some escaped his grasp and were trampled underfoot.

"Ah! I knew they were somewhere!" They were forced into his hand. "See? All present and accounted for. Aren't I a proper little worker?"

"Congratulations. Have a lollipop," Leehalt said angrily. "This should have been given to me two days ago. I might have been able to finish my own work were it the case. This isn't like you, Malik. You haven't been like this since –"

Malik turned away to operate the computer, which now commanded his attention.

"Never mind," Leehalt said. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

The prophet turned away to leave before Malik could make things worse. He was comfortable with their relationship as it was. There was no need to bring love into it. And the one thing Malik wanted was his love. The psychology was obvious; all their arguments, Malik's games, they were nothing but attention-seeking disorders. A person didn't have to say 'I love you' or 'I care' or 'are you all right' to show their worry. He cared for Malik, tried to guide the child the right way, but Malik never paid attention. He was too wrapped up in his Mama and his need for love to accept she was dead.


End file.
